


Storm Eyes

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: After Sherrinford, Mycroft needs time for him. Greg remembers him.For the challenge of Mystrade is our division: a fic with the word storm.English is not my first language, this has been translated with Deepl, I regret any error.





	Storm Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> It's all Doyle, Moffat and Gatiss.

It's raining today. I love the rain.  
Yes, it's London, it usually rains, don't tell me.  
It's not just rain. The thunder rumbles and the lightning seems to want to split the sky in two. I like the color of the sky on stormy days.   
The storm reminds me of you. Yes, many little things remind me of you every day.   
No, I don't think about you and I feel bad for your absence every minute of the day. I promised.  
But sometimes a ray of autumn sunshine shines on a tree leaf and I remember your coppery hair, or someone says something stupid and I can see you raising an eyebrow, your mouth stretching out in a forced smile, then you would look at me, as if you knew exactly what I was thinking. As if you knew that I know exactly what you are thinking.   
We share that strange sense of humor that has helped us stay sane more than the work of a thousand therapists.  
Okay, I'm digressing now.  
I said the storm reminds me of you.   
Its leaden color reminds me of your gray eyes. Do you know they're never the same shade of gray?  
Sometimes they look like liquid silver, on the rare occasions when you're relaxed and at peace, I don't think many people have seen them like that, shining while you laugh, or when you looked at me after making love.  
Sometimes they have the tone of the sea in winter, when you're angry and try to stay calm. Or when someone is about to pay dearly for their stupidity.  
Sometimes they have a slightly bluish tone, when your mind goes so far that no one can reach you, lost in your memories, or, I hope this includes me, dreaming of the future, of another life.  
Sometimes they have the dark gray that precedes the storm, when you are afraid and need something to hold on to.   
The sky was that color today. A color that threatened chaos, that has plunged the city into silence as water and wind beat it with violence.  
That's why I remembered you, you're somewhere, fighting your own inner storm.  
That's why I had to write you today this letter that, like so many others, I will never send you.  
Just to remind you that after the storm, the sky opens again, and the air is lighter and cleaner, the sun shines brighter, and calm reigns again.  
The storm has come, hitting your hard world, challenging your self-control.   
But it will pass, I promise you. And when I do, I will be here, waiting for you.  
And not everything will be perfect, more storms will come, and we will go through them together, the wind will hit us and the water will seem to drown us, but they will pass.   
And when it is gone I will be there, telling you without words, just looking at your gray eyes, that I love you even more than I love rainy .


End file.
